


Forgetful

by pauraque



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 1: Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, Fifteen Minute Fic, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-12-05
Updated: 2003-12-05
Packaged: 2017-10-27 14:21:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/296777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pauraque/pseuds/pauraque
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neville remembers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forgetful

**Author's Note:**

> For the Fifteen Minute Ficlets community. The word was "forgetful".

Clutching Trevor to his chest, Neville trailed the line of students into the Great Hall. He had never seen anything so horribly _big_. There were excited conversations going on all around him, but he almost couldn't hear them over the deafening _bigness_ of this place.

Someone bumped hard against his shoulder, startling him so that he could hear again. It was the boy with the glasses. "Ouch," the boy said, rubbing his forehead. "Sorry..."

Neville mumbled something back and patted Trevor's head nervously. He glanced up at the table where the teachers sat, and he only had a second of awareness that black eyes were looking at him before he just—

_Two years old today, and mummy showing him how to put up two fingers instead of one when someone asks the question. You're not one anymore, Neville dear, you're two years old today. The smell of black sticky candy from the kitchen where daddy is cooking, and he's saying no, it's not candy, it's fennel seeds, it just smells like candy, see? No, Neville, that's not to eat, that's magic, it's a potion to—_

_And daddy stops talking and he's looking out the window with his eyes too wide, and there's yelling outside, and mummy puts him under the kitchen table and locks the door, and it all smells like black liquorice candy as the pot boils over and spills bright red all over the white tile floor—_

Neville stumbled, his vision blurry, and he grabbed onto someone's cloak to keep from falling. He looked up, and the man with the black eyes was still studying him, with the intensity of a jewel-cutter working over a rare and flawed diamond.

And Neville remembered.


End file.
